


Dropping The Mask, Watching It Shatter

by afteriwake



Series: A Thousand Suns [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was wearing a mask now, and she just wanted someone to see the real her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dropping The Mask, Watching It Shatter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge Linkin Park fan and their album "A Thousand Suns" really touched me. It has some great lyrics which are meaningful to me, so I decided to do a six part series focusing on the people in the world of the living post time skip. Then it...grew. This is the first part.

  
_We held our breath when the clouds began to form  
But you were lost in the beating of the storm  
And in the end we were made to be apart  
Like separate chambers of the human heart_   
Linkin Park, “Burning In The Skies”   


He would always be Kurosaki-kun. His name was what had kept her sane, calling his name. When he had appeared, she believed the worst was over, but it wasn't. But Kurosaki-kun had won, had rescued her, but at a price.

She still had dreams, of reaching for Ulquoirra's hand and watching it fade into dust and scatter on the wind. Almost a year and a half later and she dreamt of it almost nightly. She'd wake up in a rush, half choked sobs in her throat. She'd take a deep breath, maybe two, sometimes get some water or warm milk and then try to go back to sleep. Some nights she was successful, some nights she wasn't.

In a way, she had cared for Ulquoirra. It was not the same as the feelings she had for Kurosaki-kun, or even the feelings she had for Ishida-kun. It was different. It wasn't love, but she was starting to doubt she'd know love when it hit her, she felt she was so damaged. It was compassion, yes, compassion tempered with an almost weird form of respect. He had tried to save them, before he died, from the Hollow thing that Ichigo became. It didn't make up for the abuse, but she had seen he had started to change. There...maybe he could have been saved.

No, probably not. Kurosaki-kun had been more animal than hero. He wasn't going to let the threat stay alive. And that scared her, it really did. It terrified her that he would get so focused on her that he'd forget to be human because his Hollow side would take over.

 _Did_ take over. Past tense. Kurosaki-kun was powerless now. And that made her heart ache. He couldn't protect anyone, least of all her.

With a sigh she pushed the covers off of herself and got up. The reaching arm wasn't going to go away so easily tonight. Milk wasn't going to cut it. So she would do what she always did when she needed peace. She would talk to her brother.

She sat in front of his picture, lit a stick of insense and closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts. “I don't know if I can do this anymore,” she said quietly, opening up her eyes. Her voice sounded tired, worn out. Maybe seventeen months wasn't enough time to recover.. Maybe she'd never recover. “The dreams aren't going away, brother. And it makes my head heart.” She sighed. “I put on a smile, and everyone thinks I'm okay, but I'm really not, Sora-kun.”

No, she really wasn't. She was broken, slowly healing but still fragmented. Still haunted by the events in Hueco Mundo. Still feeling apart from everything, a trick that had gotten her through the abuse, the torment. Separate yourself from what's going on. Be detached. Pray for your friends to swiftly come rescue you.

She took another deep breath. “I think Tatsuki knows. I think she sees I'm not all right. And I wish she would talk to me about it, so I could just...” She sighed. “I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I'm not the same Orihime you knew. I'm not the same Orihime they knew. I--”

She was interrupted by a knock at the door. Getting up from her kneeling position, she slowly walked to the door. She looked out and opened it in surprise, probably a little more quickly than she had planned. “Kurosaki-kun,” she said quietly.

“Hey, Inoue,” he said, leaning against the doorway. He looked tired and worn out, looked on the outside the same way she felt on the inside. She knew she should put on the mask, be bright and cheerful and bubbly, but...she just couldn't. And when he frowned, she hoped he'd say something. “Hey, are you okay?”

Don't lie. Don't cover it up. “Ye—no.” There. She said it. She was not all right. She could say it out loud to someone other than her brother's spirit. She could continue if he just asked.

“What's wrong?” he asked, concern on his face. He pushed himself off the door frame and looked at her intently.

“Everything,” she whispered. She felt the tear slip, followed quickly by another, and then one on the other sde, and before she knew it she was crying and Kurosaki-kun had pulled her close. The boy who had no idea how to deal with her somehow knew exactly what to do. She cried quietly onto his shoulder for a few minutes, before pulling away and wiping her eyes. “I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun.”

“I thought you were okay,” he said quietly, shutting the still open door behind him. “You're not, are you? Not even close.”

“I dream, every night, of reaching towards him,” she said quietly. “Some nights I can't get back to sleep. Some nights I dream of other thins that happened, but I always dream that I'm too late.”

Ichigo nodded slowly. “I have dreams, too,” he said.

“Oh!” she said, her hands flying to cover her mouth. “Where are my manners? Do you want to sit? Do you want something to eat or drink? I can--”

“Orihime.” He said it quietly. She stopped with a word on her lips, staring in wonder. He had never called her by her first name before. She had always been “Inoue.” 

“Yes?” she asked quietly.

“It'll be okay,” he said, reaching over for her hnad. She looked down at their hands. “I didn't know if you'd be awake, but I came by to check on you, after what had happened with Ishida, and...” He fingered her knuckles lightly. “I haven't really taken a good look at how you really were, have I?”

She shook her head. “No. But neither did anyone else.”

“I should have, though,” he said. “I just got lost in my own thoughts and feelings.” He squeezed her hand for a moment. “Let's talk, if it's not too late for you.”

“I wasn't going to go to sleep again anyway,” she said, moving to pull him towards her couch. She let go of his hand and sat down, waiting for him to join her. When he did, she turned to look at him. “No one knew, Kurosaki-kun. I'm good at hiding stuff, I guess. And I didn't want anyone to worry.”

“You sound different tonight,” he said. “More mature, less...like _you_.”

“I changed. A lot,” she said with a sad smile. “I'm really not the same anymore.”

“None of us are,” he said quietly.

“Why were you out so late?” she asked.

“I...I can't say,” he said. “But I'm working on getting my powers back.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Is Urahara-san helping you?”

He shook his head. “No. But that's all I can say about that.”

“Okay,” she said with a nod.

“Orihime?”

“Yes?”

“Could you...call me Ichigo?” he asked quietly.

She nodded slowly. “All right, Ichigo.”

“Good.” He grinned at her, a sight that looked unfamiliar yet natural on his face. She found herself wishing he would smile more. “Good.”

He yawned, and since yawns are contagious she yawned a moment later. “I guess I'm more tired than I thought.”

“I should go, then,” he said.

“Ichigo?”

“Yes?” he asked.

“Would...would you stay here tonight?”

He looked at her and nodded. “All right.”

“And...do you mind if we just talk until we fall asleep?”

“I can do that,” he said, moving a little closer.

“Thank you,” she said with a grateful smile. And with that, they began to talk. _Really_ talk, delving deep into how the last eighteen months had changed them. When she started to nod off, he had gotten up, grabbed a blanket, and let her rest her head on his shoulder. For the first night in a long time, she didn't dream of Hueco Mundo again. She slept soundly, curled up next to him, as though a heavy weight had been lifted off her chet and she could finally get some peace. She felt safe again, and that was the best thing he could have done for her.

When she woke up in the morning he was still there. He'd shifted them so she was leaning on top of him, her head resting on his chest. She smiled slightly, listening to his heartbeat. Strong, reassuring, steady. All qualities he had. All qualities she was glad he'd kept. And she knew, from that moment on, she could be herself around him, the new her, the badly damaged but still healing her. And for that, she was eternally grateful.


End file.
